


Battle of Wills

by Combatboots



Series: Clexa Love Week [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Face-Sitting, Masturbation, Oral, Panties, Simultaneous Orgasm, Teasing, Watching, switch clexa, versatile clexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Combatboots/pseuds/Combatboots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is very late from a meeting and Clarke is forced to start date night off without the Commander, with the help of her secret collection of naughty Lexa sketches. When Lexa finally arrives at their room, Clarke wants to punish her for being late. But Lexa is just as stubborn and she sets about convincing Clarke to let her join her on the bed in the most teasing way she can think of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle of Wills

**Author's Note:**

> Authored by 'COMBAT' & 'BOOTS'

Battle of Wills

Clarke is impatient. Lexa was supposed to be back two hours ago. Clarke has rearranged the candles, picked up all her dirty clothes off the floor (Lexa hates dirty clothes on the floor) and sketched the view out of the tower window. She's pacing the length of the room, wondering if she should be angry with Lexa or sympathetic; clearly something important is keeping her. 

Clarke plops down on the bed, face first, landing next to her sketch book. Grinning, she picks it up and flips to the pages in the back. It's where she keeps her personal stash of naked Heda drawings. She would be mortified if anyone other than Lexa knew she had them, but how could she not? Lexa is gorgeous and such a willing model. 

She flips past a detailed sketch of Lexa's back, all lean muscle and tattoos. As she leafs through the pages, the drawings get more and more risque, and then downright dirty. She comes to a stop at one of Lexa flat on her back, right arm over her eyes, naked as the day she was born. Clarke smirks, remembering the day she drew it. She had fucked Lexa so good, Lexa had begged her to stop, her pussy over sensitive after her third orgasm. Lexa had been totally spent, flat on her back, legs spread, trying desperately to catch her breath. Clarke had to draw it. She'd ordered Lexa not to move, and had captured every detail. Pert breasts and hard nipples, skin slick with sweat, Lexa's pussy wet and swollen, her clit still hard and proud. 

Clarke feels herself grow wet at the memory, at the drawing. She rolls over on to her back, smack in the middle of the bed. If Lexa’s insistent on running late, Clarke figures she should have some fun alone. She'd run out of other things to do anyway. 

Mind made up, Clarke's hands find her full breasts, teasing them over her shirt and bra. She pinches at her nipples through the fabric, the sensation dull, but still enough to cause her nipples to harden. Letting out a huff of frustration even despite deciding to take matters into her own capable hands, she sits up and pulls her shirt over her head in one swift motion. Her bra quickly follows and she welcomes the cool air on her overheated skin, the way it makes her nipples pucker. Greedy hands make their way back to her tits, and Clarke lets out a low moan as she pinches and rolls her own nipples. 

Clarke needs more, and her left hand quickly drops from her breast to pop the button on her jeans, dragging the zipper down right after. She uses her toes to take off her socks then wiggles out of her jeans in a most undignified and frantic way. Right hand still on her tit, she uses her left to strip of her undershorts and tosses them on the floor (for Lexa to notice later). 

Clarke stops her ministrations for just a moment to flip through her sketch-book again. To find her favorite picture. It’s a picture she had worked hard to convince Lexa to pose for, and it was to die for. Lexa on all fours in the middle of the bed, ass in the air, pussy wet and spread by Lexa’s own fingers. Back and thigh muscles and the generous swell of Lexa’s ass all lovingly committed to the paper. Clarke couldn't see Lexa's face when she was sketching, but that didn't matter. Lexa like she is in the sketch, vulnerable and spread open for her, ready for her, is Clarke’s favorite view in the world. 

Clarke, nearly overwhelmed with arousal, brings her left hand down slow over her belly, through wet golden curls, and runs her middle finger through her slit, parting her inner lips and smiling at the copious wetness already there. Feeling emboldened, she glides her middle and index fingers through her arousal, gathering up as much as she can. Then Clarke brings her drenched fingers to her mouth. Slides them against her tongue with a satisfied hum just as the door opens.

Lexa barges through the door to her room, having sent the guards away for the rest of the night, to save their ears from what Clarke had promised her was to be quite the date night.

She feels awful that the meeting with King Roan had dragged on for so long and so when she enters the room and shuts the door behind her, she is already speaking her apology before her eyes even locate Clarke in the bedroom.

“Clarke? Niron, I am so sorry I’m late. Roan’s troubles with the faction of N-” Lexa starts her carefully planned excuses, but gets no further than that. Her voice cracks and Lexa stops dead as her eyes finally land on Clarke; spread out in the center of the bed, totally naked. Clarke on full display, with her own fingers thrust in her mouth and an expression of enjoyment on her face that tells Lexa that she is tasting one thing and one thing alone. Lexa gulps back the saliva that fills her mouth in response to the sight before her.

Clarke makes a show of licking and sucking her fingers before speaking, “Nice of you to show up Lex. You're late you know. I had to start without you.”

Lexa cocks her head, trying not to let Clarke’s indignation get the better of her. It’s difficult, especially when she’s just noticed Clarke’s sketchpad, open to a revealing picture of Lexa, on the mattress beside Clarke. She tries to capitalise on Clarke’s obvious desperation. “I can see that you’ve missed me, niron,” she says, her voice a low rumble to mask how flushed she feels. She starts to move again, making a beeline to the bed with every intention of joining Clarke and making up for leaving her love waiting for so long. “Maybe now that I’m here I can lend a hand with the task you’ve found to occupy yourself with?”

Clarke shudders at the low timbre of Lexa’s voice, but there is no way she’s letting the Commander off so easily for being late. “Oh no, you have to watch. Stand at the foot of the bed. Watch what I've had to do all alone,” comes Clarke's wicked reply, for she knows how badly Lexa wants to touch her. Clarke waits until Lexa retreats to the foot of the bed before continuing. 

Lexa stands at her full height at the foot of the bed as instructed. She figures she’ll play along for a little while, for the sight of Clarke spread out on the bed, beautiful soft, curvaceous body on full display, is nothing short of wonderful. Still, the sight is making Lexa feel uncomfortably hot and she decides that she too needs to strip herself of her clothes in order to more comfortably enjoy Clarke’s little performance piece. Lexa grabs at the hem of her shirt, manages to tug it up just enough to reveal a slither of her stomach, when the response she really should have been expecting from Clarke makes her stop in her tracks.

“Lexa! Hands at your side. You are to watch and watch only, understood? I will stop this whole show if you cannot follow directions,” comes Clarke's soft yet insistent command. 

Lexa sighs theatrically as she lets the hem of her shirt go and drops her hands to her side. She doesn’t want Clarke to stop, not yet. Still, that does not stop her from raising a brow, her mouth forming a full, petulant pout. “You are cruel to me, Clarke,” she says.

Clarke doesn't reply, doesn't say a word, she just brings her hands back to her full tits, pinches and pulls on stiff pinky red nipples. A hiss falls from her lips and she smiles a wicked grin, “You know, if you'd have been on time, these could be your hands on my tits,” Clarke says, and continues her own exploration of her body. “Your hands here, running over my tummy, tickling my sides.” Clarke bends her knees so her feet are flat on the bed, then lets them fall open, exposing wet blonde curls and swollen lips, inner ones spilling out over the outer ones, closed tight and just begging to be explored by a finger, a tongue. She takes her right hand and spreads her pussy lips open, exposing her dripping center. “Could have been your tongue right here Lexa, but you made me wait. You made me wait too long and now I have to take care of it myself,” Clarke teases, ghosting the fingers of her left hand through her arousal. 

Lexa swallows hard as she watches Clarke spread herself open. Her knees are weak from the spectacle and Lexa can feel her knickers growing damper with her own wetness every moment as she endures Clarke’s punishment for her tardiness. Her green eyes fixate on Clarke’s glistening, dark pink lips, spread wide by Clarke’s fingers. Lexa drinks in the sight of Clarke’s exposed pussy, and as Clarke has guessed, wishes it were indeed her tongue lapping up that wetness, and not Clarke’s own fingers. 

Lexa’s breath is shaky. She needs to somehow convince Clarke to allow her to join her on the bed. After all, she technically wasn’t to blame for her lateness. Lexa flexes her jaw, determination setting in. She is the Commander. Clarke’s teasing should not render her so incapable of counter attack. One quickly forms in her mind, the haze of arousal clearing a moment out of sheer force of will. She needs to let Clarke have her fun just a little longer, Lexa decides, just long enough for Clarke to feel the need to squeeze her eyes shut as she always does. 

Clarke's blue eyes catch Lexa’s green ones and Clarke bites her bottom lip in an attempt at innocence. She knows Lexa is frustrated, and Clarke would be lying if she said she wasn't too. Clarke's left index finger dances around her clit, brushing over it lightly, just a hint of friction. She maneuvers lower, and she slides that same finger inside herself, eyes fluttering shut involuntarily with pleasure. 

Lexa almost lets the sight of Clarke sliding a finger into her own pussy rob her of her chance, but she catches herself. She reminds herself that she’s about to wrestle the upper-hand in what Lexa has decided is going to be quite the excruciating battle of wills. With Clarke’s eyes shut and her attention solely on pleasuring herself, Lexa takes her chance. She moves her hand to the button of her pants, undoes them faster than she has perhaps done anything before and then messily, she tugs them down to her knees, where her boots prevent them from going any lower. Lexa briefly considers removing her soaked underwear too, but then she smiles a wicked smile that Clarke never gets to see. Instead, her right hand immediately cups her own pussy fully over the fabric, and Lexa lets out a satisfied whine at finally finding some much needed friction, aware that the noise will capture Clarke’s otherwise occupied attention.

Clarke's eyes fly open at the sound of Lexa's whine. She is surprised to find her lover with her pants around her knees and Lexa's hand over her mound. “Lexa,” Clarke hisses, “what did I say about following directions? I will stop.”

“No. You won’t,” Lexa drawls out and she makes a show of grinding the heel of her palm into herself. “I know you are enjoying this,” she says, her voice breathy, and then she lets her hand fall away from herself just to let Clarke see the mess she has made of Lexa’s knickers, “You always enjoy driving me wild. Now look. Look and see what you’ve done.”

Clarke swallows hard, the only crack in her composure. She is not letting Lexa win this easily, no matter how much she wants to tear off Lexa’s soaked knickers and bury her tongue in Lexa's pussy. Clarke slides her finger out of herself, and replaces the one with two, fucking herself deep and slow. “It really is a pity that you can't feel this. I feel so good, so wet and hot,” Clarke teases. She wastes no time in adding a third finger to the mix. 

Lexa feels a curse forming at the back of her throat as she watches Clarke slide the third finger inside herself. She swallows it back down, even as her brain fills with maddening thoughts of those being her own fingers. She smirks, intent not to lose the game they’ve started. “I’m sure you do, niron. And I know you wish that those were my own fingers thrusting deep inside you, stretching and filling you up like only I can.” 

Lexa quickens her hand over the fabric of her knickers, drawing fast, hard circles over her clit as she watches Clarke’s performance. It’s a struggle to keep her voice even as she speaks again, but somehow she manages; “You think you are teasing me, but you’re only making things worse for yourself. Look at me, tell me you don’t want me on that bed with you. Tell me you don’t want this,” she growls and then she grabs the fabric of her knickers tightly with her hand and pulls them up tight until the fabric slips between her lips, revealing the most teasing glance of her pussy. She isn’t happy to just tease however, she wants to force Clarke’s hand, and so she manipulates the taut fabric further, dragging it over her neat little folds until her swollen, glistening clit is on full view. The feeling of her knickers scratching so good and rough against the delicate bud elicits a low moan from Lexa’s lips.

Clarke can't drag her eyes away from Lexa’s pretty pussy lips. She is so enraptured that she stops fucking herself and just stares, mouth watering at the thought of Lexa’s clit in her mouth. Clarke knows she shouldn't have tried to best Lexa at a battle of wills; she knew she'd lose. But oh, what a way to lose. 

“Lexa,” comes Clarke's voice, needy and rasping, “bed, now.”

Lexa lets out a victorious laugh as she lets go of her knickers. She doesn’t need to be told twice and makes quick work of removing all of her clothes, so that when she crawls onto the bed to join Clarke, she is just as naked and ready as her partner. Lexa lets her bare skin slide over Clarke’s body as she slips herself between Clarke’s parted thighs. When her face is at last level with Clarke’s she pauses a moment to enjoy the flush on Clarke’s cheeks, before she captures Clarke’s lips in a deep, searing kiss.

Clarke turns the kiss messy, biting and licking Lexa’s wonderful full lips, slipping her tongue between them into Lexa’s mouth. She feels Lexa buck her hips against her, but Clarke still has a trick up her metaphorical sleeve. 

Clarke grabs Lexa’s ass and tugs, coaxing her up. She encourages Lexa to crawl up the bed, until at last Lexa’s drenched center and proud pink clit are right above her eager mouth. Clarke places a firm grip on Lexa's hips, and pulls Lexa down onto her face. Clarke moans at the taste of Lexa, pushes her tongue inside as deep as she can get it, drinking straight from the source. Clarke encourages Lexa to grind her hips, and moves her attention up to Lexa’s clit with a broad, fluid lick. She sucks it into her mouth, flicking it hard with her tongue, matching the rhythm of Lexa’s hips. 

Lexa groans at the feeling of Clarke’s lips surrounding her clit, at the warmth of her tongue on the sensitive, eager bud. She grinds herself down onto Clarke’s face nice and slow, relishing in the feeling of her lips spreading out over Clarke’s mouth. “I knew you wanted this,” she manages to hiss in between her grunts of pleasure and then she quickens the movements of her hips, her hands finding and gripping hard to the headboard when Clarke’s tongue responds accordingly.

Still, Lexa had been hoping to finally be allowed to touch Clarke’s body. The eagerness with which she’d allowed herself to end up grinding into Clarke’s face was slightly infuriating, even whilst simultaneously being one of the best feelings in the world. Lexa dares to let one hand release the headboard from its death grip, and she reaches blindly behind herself, lowering the hand until it finds the warm, soft skin of Clarke’s abdomen. She scratches at the gorgeous curves a little and then trails her hand down over Clarke’s tummy, through soaking curls. At last, her fingers glide over dripping wet, thick lips. Lexa moans in satisfaction when she feels Clarke’s tongue pause it’s work a split second, before continuing on. She toys at Clarke’s pussy a while, tugging gently at those generous folds until finally she digs her wetted fingers between them and makes contact with Clarke’s drenched center. With her index finger, she teases Clarke’s hood back and then with her middle, she starts working slow, deliberate circles over Clarke’s shy, sensitive clit.

Clarke bucks into Lexa’s hand and moans into Lexa’s pussy, but after her one small pause, she never stops the onslaught of her tongue. The vibration provided by her moan causes a subtle shudder to run through Lexa and Clarke is quite pleased with that result. Clarke quickens her pace with her tongue, sucking Lexa’s clit harder, hoping that Lexa will get the message she’s trying to convey. When Lexa doesn’t quicken her pace Clarke snakes her left hand down between her thighs to join Lexa’s, her smaller hand over Lexa’s long delicate fingers, directing Lexa where she needed her most. 

“Clarke,” Lexa mutters out her lover’s name as she feels Clarke’s insistent hand guiding her fingers down lower. Lexa leans back further, as far as she dares to without losing her balance, her other hand’s grip on the headboard turning to iron as her arm stretches to keep her aloft atop Clarke’s face. It gives her just the right amount of reach she needs, and with Clarke’s small, warm, hand guiding her the whole way, at last Lexa slides two fingers into Clarke’s soaked entrance, buries them deep inside Clarke’s thrumming pussy. When she feels Clarke press her hand still more insistently, Lexa understands and immediately slips a third finger inside, a worked up Clarke more than ready to take it. “Jok,” she lets out, “So hot and wet, Clarke. So ready for me.”

Clarke moans again into Lexa's pussy. She loves the way Lexa’s fingers fill her and stretch her so good. Clarke rolls her hips up, fucking herself on Lexa's hand, head dizzy at the wet sounds her pussy makes with each thrust, mingling with the noise of her tongue working ever faster at Lexa’s clit. Clarke brings her right hand up from Lexa’s hip, running her palm along Lexa's belly, up over Lexa's breast, tweaking the nipple as she goes. She continues her progress up over Lexa’s shoulder, over her arm. Clarke latches on to the wrist of Lexa’s hand that's white knuckled on the headboard. Clarke gives it a tug and Lexa loosens her grip immediately, grabbing Clarke's hand instead, trusting Clarke to help keep her balance. 

Clarke's hips are almost frantic now, chasing her release on Lexa’s fingers,Lexa pumping her wrist in perfect timing with Clarke’s hips. Clarke's tongue is relentless on Lexa’s clit, sucking and licking, Lexa riding her face so obscenely, but so wonderfully. Clarke tries to keep her eyes open so that she can peer up, up Lexa’s shuddering body, and into green eyes that stare down intently at her. 

Lexa can feel her climax approaching now, knows it won’t be long before the delicious sensations of Clarke’s tongue working furiously at her clit send her tumbling into blissful release. She grips Clarke’s right hand tighter, trying to communicate that she wants Clarke to follow her right over the edge. Clarke is close too, she knows from the way Clarke’s hips are bucking almost wildly now and Lexa skillfully matches the hard, fast pace, her fingers sliding all the way out and then plunging back in with the most wonderful wet sounds. She knows exactly what will send Clarke’s orgasm crashing through her and mustering all the focus she can through the swift approach of her own climax, Lexa expertly curls her fingers and lets her fingertips brush firmly against Clarke’s g-spot as she continues to fuck Clarke hard.

Clarke groans into Lexa’s pussy when she feels Lexa’s strong fingers press against exactly the right spot, but to her credit Clarke manages not to break the suction on Lexa’s clit. In fact, she redoubles her own efforts and Clarke flattens her tongue against Lexa's clit and stiffens it as much as possible, so Lexa can get all the friction she needs. Clarke hears Lexa’s breath catch, and feels herself clench in response, the knots in her tummy ready to snap free. 

Lexa isn’t sure if it’s the feeling of Clarke’s tongue flattening against her clit, or the sensation of Clarke’s walls clamping greedily down on her fingers, trapping them in place, that sends her over the edge, but to Lexa’s wonder, Clarke goes right along with her just as she’d hoped. They peak together, Lexa's fingers still and buried deep in Clarke's pussy, Lexa shuddering against Clarke's face, head thrown back and eyes finally closing as the pleasure becomes too much. The couple shake through their climaxes, the sound of Lexa grunting out Clarke’s name over and over mixing with Clarke’s muffled but impressively loud moans of release. Hips thrash wildly; Clarke’s off of the mattress, Lexa’s down over Clarke’s chin, spasms of pleasure. Then slowly, as the waves start to subside, their movements get softer, less desperate, and then stop completely.

Lexa stays perched above Clarke a moment as she tries to catch her breath, gives her eyes the chance to reform a clear view of the world having been squeezed tightly shut in ecstasy for so long.Then at last, she maneuvers her way down Clarke’s body until she is straddling Clarke’s thighs and unceremoniously flops forward, her hands catching her weight just in time and Lexa lowers her gently the rest of the way so that her sweat soaked body is flush with Clarke’s.

Lexa peers into Clarke’s blue eyes with her own tired ones, her lids already starting to droop. She lets her attention fall to Clarke’s lips and chin and Lexa is thrilled to see how they glisten with her own arousal, how Clarke’s lips are red and swollen. She clears the mess up with a series of sloppy kisses, humming at her own taste, and then once she’s satisfied she’s done a good enough job, she works her body lower on the bed so that she can rest her head on Clarke’s breasts. Lexa sighs at the sound of Clarke’s heartbeat, still in the process of slowing down, and she gives an affectionate whine when Clarke’s left hand buries itself in her hair.

“I am sorry I kept you waiting so long, niron,” Lexa mutters sleepily.

Clarke lets out a small chuckle and scratches at Lexa’s scalp, “You're forgiven, babe. But don't let it happen again,” comes the teasing reply. 

Lexa was expecting such a response from Clarke. She smiles against the soft flesh of Clarke’s breast. “I can’t promise that, Clarke. After all, you don’t learn your lessons so well either. Don’t think I didn’t notice your underwear on my floor,” she snipes back, not a beat missed.

“Lexa, stop talking, you'll ruin the afterglow,” Clarke says, running her fingernails along Lexa’s back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

The battle of wills hadn't ended with their simultaneous climaxes it appeared. Still unwilling to be defeated, Lexa battled to keep her eyes open, hoping to wait Clarke’s own tired body out. “Your dirty laundry is ruining my decor.”

“My dirty laundry is only on the floor because you were late Lex, or did you not notice that I'd picked up the rest?”

Lexa lifts her weary head and looks around the room. Clarke is right, all that's on the floor is one lone pair of skaikru knickers and the clothes that Lexa had taken off and left on the floor herself (but that was allowed, she’d been in a rush). But something still seems misplaced, out of order. Lexa examines the room for a moment before realization sinks in. “Clarke,” Lexa croaks, “did you move my candles?”

Clarke huffs, annoyed all over again. “Yes Lexa, I moved your candles. I was waiting for you, I got bored, I did some rearranging. Nothing major,” is Clarke's bemused reply. 

“Nothing major?”, replies Lexa, exasperated. “It took me two weeks to get the candles right and the light in the room even. Two weeks Clarke!” Lexa practically whines. 

“We'll put them back tomorrow babe, I remember how they go, it'll be ok,” Clarke says, in an attempt to soothe Lexa’s worry. 

Lexa lets her head fall back onto Clarke's chest, the generous swell of Clarke's breasts providing an excellent pillow. “But Clarke what if it isn't the same?”, Lexa whines again. 

Clarke knows a whiny Lexa is a tired Lexa, so she tangles her fingers in Lexa's dark hair again, and resumes rubbing small, calming circles into her scalp. “Baby, I'll help you until it's right, close your eyes, you've had a long day.”

“But Clarke--”

Clarke sighs, interrupting Lexa, and rolls her eyes, even if Lexa can't see her do it. “Lexa, I swear if you don't drop it I won't let you use my boobs as a pillow,” Clarke threatens, knowing how much Lexa likes sleeping on her chest. 

Lexa is silent for so long that Clarke thinks she's fallen asleep, but then Lexa lets out a long sigh and mutters, “You're lucky I love your ‘boobs’ so much,” before succumbing to slumber. 

Clarke rubs Lexa's head a little longer before she too tries to settle and fall asleep. She is prevented by the feeling of something uncomfortable digging into her side and when she tugs the offending object away from her side, Clarke realises that they’ve just made love right on top of her now mostly creased sketchpad. Clarke sighs.

She hopes she can remember how the stupid candles go come the morning, or Lexa is sure to be cross with her again and then there’ll be little chance of getting Lexa to agree to spend the rest of tomorrow posing for some replacement naughty drawings. But then again, Clarke has her ways of making Lexa forgive and forget. 

Yes, Clarke and the candles are going to be just fine. And by this time tomorrow, Clarke will have a brand new sketchbook full of naked Lexa, in poses even more risque than the ruined ones. Lexa being late wasn’t so bad at all.


End file.
